Breathing in Pieces
by Riiko Shea
Summary: A oneshot about George and Angelina as he gets over Fred's death. Set to the song "Breathe" by Anna Nalick.


**A/N:** This is a oneshot about Angelina and George as George recovers from losing Fred… it's a bit more depressing than what I usually write, but when I first heard/sang this song, I thought it fit the two of them during this time perfectly, and I had to write this.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine. The song is "Breathe (2 A.M.)" by Anna Nalick.

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Breathing in Pieces

_Two A.M. and she calls me 'cuz I'm still awake_

_Can you help me unravel my latest mistake?_

_I don't love him_

_Winter just wasn't my season._

The phone rang. Angelina leapt up and grabbed it, answering tersely, "Hello?"

"Ange? Is he back?"

Angelina sighed, recognizing the voice. "Hermione, I don't know if I can do this anymore. Is it me? Have I not tried hard enough? I mean, half the time I can't even tell if I love him or if it's just pity that keeps me here."

_Yeah we walk through the door so accusing their eyes, _

_Like they have any right at all to criticize_

_Hypocrites we're all here for the very same_

_Reason_

"You took him to counseling," said Hermione. "You've tried very hard." Angelina shook her head. Realizing Hermione couldn't see her, she growled:

"They all give us dirty looks. I mean, I know he's a mess, but everyone in there is a mess in some way. They're all there for help. You'd think they could afford some compassion, but no. They have the most to suffer through, and anyone else should just suck it up, they think. That didn't help him. It hurt him more."

'_Cuz you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable_

_And life's like an hourglass glued to the table_

_No one can find the rewind button, girl_

_So cradle your head in your hands…_

"I'm coming over," Hermione announced. A moment later, Angelina heard the noise that announced a visitor to the flat, and then Hermione was hugging her as tears streamed down Angelina's face.

"What if it hadn't happened this way?" whispered Angelina bitterly. "Why did it have to go like this?" She put her head in her hands and sobbed, as she did so often now. Crying seemed to be her only occupation.

_And breathe…_

_Just breathe…._

_Woah oh, breathe…._

_Just breathe…_

Finally, Angelina sat up, her face tearstained. Hermione patted her back, also teary. "Let me go home and get something for you to eat, okay?" said the brown-haired girl.

"Sure," murmured Angelina, putting her head on the table. "That's fine."

Hermione stood and Dissaparated, and Angelina thought about when it had all fallen apart, when he had first sat down, gotten drunk, and established that as his pattern in life.

_In May he turned twenty-one on the base of Fort Bliss_

_Just a day, he sat down to the flask in his fist_

_Ain't been sober since maybe_

_October of last year._

All he did was drink away his pain now. When he was sober, he was apologetic. He tried to stop. He'd done everything he could, Angelina knew. But when push came to shove, it wasn't enough. He was broken. He was in pieces.

_Here in town you can tell he's been down for a while_

_But my God it's so beautiful when the boy smiles_

_Want to hold him…_

_Maybe I'll just sing about it._

All of the Weasleys, Potters, maybe even the whole Wizarding world knew what had happened to him. Her family knew, and had been trying to convince her to leave him for years. But she couldn't do it.

The look on his face when he was sober and had just cracked a rare joke was beautiful, and that kept her with him. Because she knew that somewhere, deep inside the dark, broken soul of his, the real him was there, dying to come out, but unsure as to how to go about it.

'_Cuz you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable_

_And life's like an hourglass glued to the table,_

_No one can find the rewind button, boy,_

_So cradle your head in your hands…_

He had wandered out of the house three weeks ago and had not come back. She couldn't find him. She didn't know where he had gone. She didn't even know if he was alive.

Angelina though he was. She felt like she could tell. He was alive, and maybe, someday, he would come back to her.

_And breathe…_

_Just breathe…_

_Whoa oh, breathe…_

_Just breathe…_

Now the tears were falling again, and she grabbed a piece of parchment from the table, scratching at it so hard with the quill that lay nearby that she almost tore it. On it, she wrote, "I don't know what to do anymore. You need to come back. You need to get better." Next to her words, she drew him, quickly, capturing the way he had been: eyes alight, mouth open and laughing, hair ruffled, face flushed with pleasure.

_There's a light at each end of this tunnel, you shout_

'_Cuz you're just as far in as you'll ever be out,_

_And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again_

_If you only try turning around…_

He had made mistakes. So had she. She was still trying, though. Because he couldn't be totally broken and in pieces. Not him.

Yes. Angelina knew he would put himself back together. Someday. He would become the man she had known, had loved. Still loved.

And then, the door opened.

_Two A.M. and I'm still awake writing a song,_

_If I get it all down on paper it's no longer inside of me,_

_Threatening the life it_

_Belongs to…_

Angelina stood swiftly, wand at the ready, the parchment, forgotten, clutched in her hand. She faced the hall and froze. It was him.

His orange hair was tousled, his eyes tired and red, but like he had been crying, not like he was drunk. There was a clarity to them that she had not seen in months, a clarity that told him he had not been in a bar all these weeks like she had believed.

He strolled towards her, tense, nervous. She didn't move, didn't think she could move. He stopped in front of her, and when he spoke, his voice was rough. "Ange? What's this?" He pulled the parchment from her hand, glancing at it. He froze, too.

_And I feel like I'm naked in front of a crowd_

'_Cuz these words are my diary screaming out loud_

_And I know that you'll use them_

_However you want to…_

"Ange… I'm so sorry… how can you forgive me?" he whispered, after what seemed like an eternity. "I tried, I tried so hard, but never hard enough… I had to leave. I was going to kill myself… I was going to jump off a bridge. And then I remembered you, and I knew I had to come back… and I- I haven't drunk in three weeks… and I want to come back, Ange. I'm never going to be totally healed. But I'm going to get better, Ange. I am."

'_Cuz you can't jump the track, we're like cars on a cable,_

_And life's like an hourglass glued to the table,_

_No one can find the rewind button now,_

_Sing it if you understand…_

"I understand, I do… I … I'm just so happy you're back… I've missed you!" Angelina cried, and he took her in his arms, hugging her, and he smelled like himself, not like beer, or endless sorrow, and tears he cried now were clean. "I love you so much… George," she whispered through her tears, saying his name for the first time in three weeks.

_And breathe…_

_Just breathe…_

_Whoa oh, breathe…_

_Just breathe…_

When Hermione Apparated back to Angelina's flat, the two were talking softly, sitting across from each other at the table. She watched, so happy for her friend and her brother-in-law. She knew that George had been with Charlie, who had helped him get his act back together. Hermione was glad that George was recovering. Everyone could breathe again.

_Just breathe._

**A/N: **Like it? Hate it? Review!

))Riiko Shea((


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